A/N: This story has a bit of my own head-canon in regards to the gods of nirn. Specifically that Arkay and Sithis are both the same entity simply known as Death. Arkay represents, at least to me, the peaceful death and the rights of mourning used in nirn. Sithis is the violent and traumatic death like what the dark brother hood sometimes brings to its victims. Thus, two sides of the same coin known as death. The entity just doesn't care what it is called since everything comes through it eventually anyway. You have been warned. Also, if the tags and description haven't warned you somehow- this story equals m/m or dude romantically involved with another dude. If this isn't your thing find a different story to read. For everyone else, I hope you enjoy the story I weave for you. -Rubik

Was it a thing that the thought of good ale, warm food and a solid bed turned you the fuck on? Because if it wasn't, it fucking was now. Despite being a near immortal monster, Valiant felt as if he was on the verge of passing out on the road. Everything fucking ached and it was getting increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open properly. And it was putting him in one void of a mood.

In an effort to keep himself from face planting into the stone, he pulled out a vial from his cloak pocket, pulled out the cork, and downed it like a shot. The stamina potion did the trick and it gave him a pick me up that would hopefully last the rest of his journey to Whiterun. Hopefully.

He had been traveling for at least a fortnight on foot from Dawnstar to Markarth in order to look into a daedric artifact that had been picked up on his radar.

He had been taking it upon himself to destroy any that came across his way since he arrived in Skyrim. It was A personal mission to keep him busy in his long life. Though he did keep the more benign ones for himself, like the Wabbajack. He fucking loved that thing. So much fun to bring to parties.

Once he got there and poked around however, He wished he had not made the effort...

He never wanted to see that fucker Molag Bol again. He could still feel him inside his body when the nightmares hit. He still remembered the pain that ran through his young and broken body as the fucker's seed began to turn him into what he was now. The sound of his voice still echoed in his head and it made him feel sick. He wanted to travel to Morrowind and toss himself into the active volcano in order to get the feeling of his hands off his skin.

So, after fucking him over and destroying the mace, he had intended to go back home to Dawnstar, raid his wine cellar until he was black out drunk and then hibernate for a good month. Maybe even call on Sanguine for some soul cleaning fuckery while he was at it. He would need at least that after seeing that fucker again. But, as is always the case these days, a courier came just as he was about to take the road back home.

Duncan, the Dragon that could turn human some how, had sent a courier out to the little band of misfits he had started to call family. He pleaded, as much as the stoic man did, for their help in saving a friend from a perilous situation and that he would meet us in Whiterun to discuss the details. He almost ignored the letter and began taking the northern path back to Dawnstar and to home, however, Duncan very rarely if at all asked for help. So, the few times he did, the group often took it seriously. So, begrudgingly and exhaustively he turned east and began the journey to Whiterun.

Despite his exhaustion and subsequent gloomy disposition the sight of a man in a jester outfit made him stop in his tracks instead of carrying on like he had intended.

It wasn't the fact that he was a jester, he had seen those before as he traveled across Nirn. nor was it the obviously broken cart sitting on the side of the road, those were pretty normal. It was what it was carrying that had caught his attention.

It was her presence he felt as soon as he laid eyes on the large box the cart was carrying. He had thought his exhaustion was making his mind play tricks on him but when he focused, he could feel her. He could feel her essence combined with the lingering touch of his conciever whom had made her what she now was. The Night-mother was in that box, which meant, mom was in that box and Valiant wasn't ashamed to admit he was a mamma's boy. And he couldn't leave his mother sitting on the side of the road, could he?

Making sure he was within line of sight of the keeper he approached, and tapped the man on the shoulder. What he had braced himself for was a man whom was gloomy, stoic or just plain fucking creepy like former keepers of the Night mother had been. What he got however was a delightful surprise, making him smile despite his foul mood.

"Agh! Bother and Befuddle! Stuck here! Stuck! My mother, my poor mother. Unmoving. At rest, but too still!"

A fairly above average looking Imperial man, with gorgeous red hair, turned around and faced him, a look of frustration on his face. Valiant found his speech patterns immediately fascinating and amusing. The man had barely talked a few sentences and he had already piqued his curiosity.

"Are you all right Jester?" asked as he tilted his head.

"Poor Cicero is stuck. Can't you see?"

Cicero... He would remember that name.

"I was transporting my dear sweet mother. Well, not her. Her corpse! She's quite dead."

Valiant?

He glanced at the coffin for a moment as the tickling feeling in his head subsided. Dead huh?

Of course, to anyone else she would be. But to those of the Brotherhood, even though he hadn't been active in some time, she was anything but. But he wondered why she was out here and not at her home sanctuary. Had something happened? Had he been away too long?

Cicero's voice broke him from his thoughts.

"I'm taking mother to a new home. A new crypt. But...aggh! Wagon wheel! Damnedest wagon wheel! It broke! Don't you see?"

He could. But, from what Valiant could see it seemed a pretty easy fix with the right tools. The Void, he could probably due it in a couple candle marks, maybe less.

"Could I help at all? It doesn't look hard to fix."

"Oh. Oh yes! Yes, the kindly stranger can certainly help!" Cicero exclaimed as he danced around.

Oh, fuck. The man was adorable. He immediately wanted to eat him, in all the good ways of course.

Thu-thump...

The feeling of his heart beat startled him, but it was so faint he figured it was his tired mind playing tricks again. He promptly ignored it.

"Go to the farm, the Lorius Farm. Just over there off the road. Talk to Lorieus. He has tools! He can help me! But he refuses!"

Valiant's eyes squinted in confusion as he looked up at the farm. This wasn't the first time he had taken this road and he had seen Lorius out in the field a time or too as he passed. He being a dunmer, especially a long black haired and crimson eyed one, it was understandable that a man like Lorius would be suspicious of him due to the current conflicts in Skyrim. But why would he not help Cicero...?

"Convince Loreius to fix my wheel..."

Valiant zoned out on the last of what Cicero said but nodded before walking up the hill. His next task for hos mother clearly laid out for him. He walked past an altmer woman, whom he assumed was the man's wife at the very least, which just confused him more. Why the hell would he not help? What was his problem?

Valiant knocked on the door. As he waited he looked around the small farm house, taking note of where the tools were stored and any easy exits. He had no real reason to do this but even the most mundane places can serve as traps if one is creative enough. And he had met people that were creative enough.

When the door opened he was face to face with Lorius. He was obviously in a mood, but so was Valiant.

"Oh for the love of Mara, what now?"

Thu-thump.

That was definitely a heartbeat he just felt in his chest, but stronger this time. It distracted him enough that he forgot why he was standing there.

"Did you need something?"

Right, the thing.

"The man on the road needs help. He tells me you have the tools. Would you be willing to help him?"

"That Cicero feller? Hmph. Tell me something I don't know. He has already asked me about five times. Seems he's not satisfied with my answer. Why won't he just leave us alone?"

Five times? How long has Cicero been there? It was pretty chilly today even for him. Was this guy gonna let him freeze to death? And it was still a good two hours walk to Whiterun from here even if he wanted to try and chance it without someone running off with his cart. The thought of someone unknowingly stealing the Night mother, his mother, was not something he wanted to entertain. Valiant could feel his mood souring. But tried to keep it civil.

"I am pretty sure he will pay you, so what's the problem?"

"Pay me? You think this I about money?"

His prejudice senses were tingling.

"Have you seen the man? He's completely out if his head. A jester? Here, in Skyrim? Ain't been a merry man in these parts for a hundred years."

"And?"

There was a pause. The kind of pause someone does when you point out how nonsense their argument is. When he started in again he shifted his reasoning.

"He's transporting some giant box. Says it's a coffin, and he's going to bury his mother. Mother my eye."

And here we go...

"He could have anything in there. War contraband. Weapons. Skooma. Ain't no way I'm getting involved in any of that."

Valiant had to will himself not to cover his face with his hand. Even though that would be a creative cover, most smugglers wouldn't be carrying illegal goods out in the open like that. Especially in the middle of the day. A giant box being taken down a main road where guards routinely patrol is a good way to get arrested. Especially if your walking around in a jester outfit. Valiant inwardly groaned. He had not the energy to deal with this stupidity. His civil charm cracked.

"Just fucking help the man. In a few candle marks he would be out of your hair. A heck of a lot faster than if you just let him sit there. And so long as you didn't take the money it couldn't be traced back to you."

Lorius face turned hostile, "And just who in Mara's name are you, anyway? Hmm? Come here, telling me my business. And for what? To help a...a...a fool!"

Valiant had to bite back a growl. If he had been fully rested and in a better mood he would have charmed the pants off this man and if he was lucky maybe his wife too. But he was in a mood, and it was worsening by the second.

"Fine. If you don't wish to help him, give me the tools. I can fix that wheel easy. Then it will be traced back to me in case something comes of it."

"And how can I trust you not to run off with them?"

Valiant held up one of his coin purses that held enough gold in it to replace the tools and then get his wife a nice dress in solitude to boot.

"That is a lot of money for a lone travaler to have on them and not get mugged maybe you-"

Fuck it. Valiant had had enough of this.

He felt the tingle behind his eyes as his abilities activated. It wasn't long before the man's eyes glazed and he stopped talking mid sentence. Valiant hid the fact it had taken hold by holding up his hand when Lorius stopped talking and asking to continue inside in private.

Once inside, Valiant closed the door behind him and turned to the now dazed man.

"I don't have the fucking energy left to deal with this so here is what is going to happen. I will leave this bag of coins on the bed and I will take your tools. There is enough there to buy new and better ones plus extra. For the next two bells, you are only going to remember me going down to the wagon and fixing that man's wheel after I paid for your tools. And in half a candle mark, you will go back to whatever the fuck you were doing and continue on with your day. Understand?"

Lorius nodded.

Valiant placed the coins on the bed then walked outside.

Thu-thump...Thu-thump.

He paused as he felt it again, stronger and faster this time. Was his heart actually...? He placed his hand against his chest. He waited about 20 seconds before...

Thu-thump... Thu-thump.

The fuck?

"Are your all right?"

Lorius's wife's voice broke him from his thoughts and he put his hand back to his side. His eyes locked onto her and his body reminded him of the state he was in. he started to see red lines on her skin. He really shouldn't have dominated Lorius in hindsight. He hadn't fed in quite a long time. And that reminded him of the wagon he would now have to lift, in order to fix. Which he would need more of his abilities to do.

He hated having to use his power over others. He hated forcing people against their will. It reminded him of what happened to him all those centuries ago. But, when it came to those he cared about, especially his mother, he would push it to the side. Then once it was over he would just get spectacularly fucking drunk, hate himself once sober, and have a lot of random sex to forget about it.

"I'm fine just, ate something that isn't agreeing with me."

"I could get you some medicine inside the house."

He approached her careful of the plants in the small farming plot as he approached.

"No it's fine. I have some. Uh...hey I do have a question..."

When he looked into her eyes, the tingle became a burn, her eyes glazing over like her husbands. He led her gently behind the windmill hiding her from the view of the road and then reiterated what he told her husband. Except...

"When people ask about the bruise on your arm, you will tell them you tripped while working in the field and smacked it on the fence. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Give me your arm."

She lifted her arm and he took gently into his hands. He gently slid the material of her sleeve up to her elbow then lifted it towards his mouth. With a swift and clean movement he sank his elongated fangs into her arm. He took too good mouthfuls before removing his mouth from her arm. He then took his tongue and ran it along the bite wound cleaning the skin and healing it to the point where only a bruise would indicate anything was wrong. She would be a bit tired but she would be right as rain in a day or two. It was all the blood he needed.

Once he was finished and righted her sleeve, he led her back to where she had been leaning on the fence. He then went around the house, grabbed the tools from where he had spied them earlier and carried them down to the waiting Cicero.

Thu-thump...thu-thump...

His heart was speeding up and he could feel his skin warming. The normal faint breath he had, even on the coldest days, was getting thicker with each breath. He had a feeling he was forgetting something important but once again pushed it to the side in favor of focusing on the task at hand.

Cicero was waiting patiently, though grumbling a little as he approached. After putting the tools down he tapped Cicero on the shoulder.

"I talked to Lorius and after some convincing he gave me his tools so I can fix the wheel."

Valiant began to take off his long black leather cloak and roll up the sleeves of his loose fitting shirt that happened to also be black.

"You did? He let you use his tools?"

Valiant walked over the wheel and tipped it up with ease and looked it over. Looks like a couple of the bolts holding down the metal around the wood had come loose causing the metal to come up. Most likely it caught on a particularly stubborn stone and popped off the wheel. Wouldn't take long to fix at all.

"Those would be it right there." Valiant pointed at the tools in question before looking over the loose bolts. Luckily, it looks like they weren't damaged. A little bit of hammering and everything should be right as rain again.

With a breath he invoked his supernatural strength and let it flow through his body. He started with pulling the bolts from the already loose piece of metal and piling them near him in a short patch of grass. Once they were out he used his strength to bend the metal back into place and a few clamps to keep it from moving.

"Oh stranger! You have made Cicero so happy!So jubilant and ecstatic! But more! Even more! My mother thanks you!"

Valiant could see the man dancing around out of the corner of his eye like a kid. He smiled as he began to line up the bolts for reentry.

"I bet she does.", he said with a chuckle.

I do.

This time he replied back telepathically. Making sure not to give away the conversation to Cicero, who was now watching him fix the wheel with intense focus.

Hello mother, fancy meeting you here.

You live.

The relief in her voice was new.

You thought me dead?

The brotherhood would talk about how you died after your last assignment. And when the sanctuary in Cyrodil was destroyed, your conciever stopped speaking with me. I could only assume.

Valiant chuckled under his breath. After that clusterfuck of a mission he had been captured and sold into slavery during a particularly dark time in his life. It wasn't something he regretted however, since if it hadn't been for the betrayal of that sect, he would never have met Able, Wander, Ja'al or Duncan.

However, with the sect in Cyrodil gone, that meant there was only one sect left.

Is that why you are here in Skyrim? The brotherhood in Cyrodil is truly gone?

Yes.

Valiant knocked the last of the bolts in and checked to make sure they wouldn't move any time soon. They didn't budge.

"Hey Cicero, I need you to hold the wheel for me for a moment."

"Of course. Cicero is glad to help the kindly stranger!"

He handed off the wheel to Cicero as he grabbed the pin that held the wheel onto the cart and put it near the peg the wheel went on. He motioned for Cicero to roll it over near him as he spoke more with his mother.

Have they spoken to you since getting here?

Just after you approached us I heard they're voice. You are needed to save the Skyrim Brotherhood from the road it has gone down. There current leader has begun to forsake the tenant and they wish you to see how far they have fallen and if need be, correct it.

Valiant nodded to himself as Cicero rolled the wheel up to him, humming the entire time. He smiled at the man and his antics.

Thu-Thump-Thu-thump.

It was faster now, somewhere between his normal heartbeat and a humans. And he could feel the tip of his nose getting cold. But, why? What was happening? It clearly must be normal otherwise he would be panicking. What was he forgetting?

"Now, Cicero, once I lift up the cart I need you to put the wheel on the peg so it lines up with it's brother on the same side, got it?"

"Cicero understands."

"Fantastic."

Valiant crouched beneath the cart, planted his feet, and then using his legs pushed up. The cart lifted a lot easier than he had anticipated but not so much he didn't accidentally tip it over. He saw the look of awe on Cicero's face and felt pride in himself grow just a tiny bit.

Once in position he nodded to Cicero who enthusiastically slid on the wheel. He turned mentally to his mother.

Time to be they're avatar again. Where do I need to go?

There is someone in Windhelm. His name is Aventus Aretino. Do his request, they will find you.

As always.

"Cicero has placed the wheel, just as the Kindly stranger asked."

Valiant looked down, he had put it on perfectly.

"Fantastic. Thank you."

"Your Welcome." Cicero practically sang as he bounced excitedly.

How can a grown man be this fucking cute, by the void.

He put the cart down gently as to not pop the wheel back off and then got out form under the cart. He waited a few moments before grabbing the pin, making sure the wheel would hold and no other unseen damage presented itself. Once nothing else broke, he grabbed the pin and slammed it back into the wheel so it wouldn't pop off again.

"There, you should be all set. The wheel wont pop off again. It should get you to wherever your going safe and sound."

There was a happy yell just before Valiant felt himself being lifted off the ground. Despite being a dunmer his body was pretty solid and having this smaller man pick him up off the ground was a bit of a surprise. Not like Valiant was complaining.

The man's body was warm in the Skyrim cold. His scent was an intoxicating mix of the cedar form his cart, blood and a mix of herbs and oils that was familiar but the source was lost to memory. His eyes were the color of warm mulled cider on a cold day and not too mention, he had a thing for red heads, especially crazy ones.

"Thank you, Thank you, Thank you kindly stranger!" He yelled happily while spinning Valiant around. "You have saved my mother! She can go to her new crypt! We are eternally grateful for the Kindly Strangers help."

"Your welcome." Valiant chuckled after Cicero put him down.

It was when Cicero let go however that it happened again.

Thu-Thump-Thu-thump. Thu-Thump-Thu-thump.

He felt his heart rate speed up to that of a human and stay there, steady and strong. He felt the cold so strongly he actually wrapped the cloak tightly around his shoulders and shivered with the newfound chill in his bones. And when he looked back at Cicero again...

What he had forgot hit him like that time Wander close lined him in werewolf form and he smashed into a tree.

Oh fuck you, Mara! Fuck you to the Void and back! Not again...

At least you had good taste this time.

Not that it was entirely her fault, really. Cicero checked all the metaphorical boxes.

Red hair? Check.

A bit nuts? Check again!

Most likely Psychotic like himself because of being in the brotherhood? We have a fucking winner.

Also, being in the Dark Brotherhoood? Bonus points.

Valiant sighed under his breath as he watched the man get ready to renew his journey. The effect he was going through was a result of a goddess who didn't know when to keep her nose out of things. Due to what happened to him so long ago, Valiant had lost all interest in romantic pursuits, preferring those that only lasted a night or a few hours. But, that didn't sit well with her and so she passed this...blessing/curse onto him.

The effect never lasted long but it served as more of a signal. A signal for what? Hey, moron you like this person date them, marry them, be happy for once in your fucking life! Of course a few times this happened it didn't end well. Mainly because of Valiant often being a bit of a psychotic bastard and scaring them away.

He would never admit it, but like his friend Able, he was a bit of a romantic in a twisted sort of way. Unfortunately finding someone who could handle his particular brand of crazy was extremely difficult and due to this, this signal Mara cursed him with became more of a bane to his existence. Causing him to avoid anyone who caused it like they had an infectious disease.

This one though may actually have potential. Perhaps this time he would finally find that luck he had been missing out on. So, for the first time in a while Valiant was just the tiniest bit hopeful.

Just before the mad jester left, Valiant watched as he pulled out a sack of coin and ran over to him.

"Here! For your Trouble! Shiny Clinky Gold! Take it!"

Valiant kept him from handing it over.

"You keep it Cicero. I don't need it."

"But Cicero must reward you in some way!"

And at that moment, the stamina potion and little bit of blood he had wore off and the exhaustion came back with a vengeance. Valiant staggered a little on his feet and grabbed Cicero's shoulder to keep from falling into the dirt. He felt Cicero wrap a hand around his waist and it made him want to curl into the warmth and pass out.

"Is the Kindly Stranger all right? You look exhausted. Would you like to sit in the cart?"

The cart... The Cart! He was an idiot. He blamed it on exhaustion.

"You know what Cicero? I think there is a way you can reward me."

"How can Cicero help?"

"You don't happen to be traveling towards Whiterun by any chance? I could obviously use the ride."

"Yes! Of Course! Cicero can take you to Whiterun! It is the least we can do for helping us!"

"Fantastic." Valiant said tiredly.

He felt Cicero slowly lead him towards the front of the cart, still holding him, until he was able to heave himself into the passenger seat. He didn't remember much after that other than Cicero's happy humming before reaching Whiterun. And when he parted with the mad jester he waved him off, knowing he would see him again, eventually.

When Valiant got to Wanders door at the newly remodeled Breezehome he barely reached for the door when it opened and the bosmer werewolf invited him in. Probably catching his scent before he reached the city. He was the first to arrive as it would seem and so he took the liberty of claiming the bed in the darkest corner of the small bunk house built onto the back and promptly passed out.

Valiant is a tiny bit OP only due to his parentage but is a fun character for me to write for. He is one of five PC's I have head-cannoned into Skyrim. I plan on writing out the others to share with people and actually have started a draft for my main character out of the five. Even though the tag may say dragonborn he is gonna only be psuedo. It will be explained later. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed the tale I weaved for you. -Rubik.